


Morals

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-09
Updated: 2008-10-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: What if one of them got drunk and the other took advantage?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Odd chapters = POV One  
>  Even chapters = POV Two
> 
> It's left open for you to decide, it's interesting to see how everyone always assumes it's one way.

A hug, a smile, the occasional brush of skin, it doesn't matter. All you need is contact and confirmation. Your need for an 'of what' goes unsatisfied.

 

Then comes the chance you've been hoping for; you are sober as your best friends, co-star and crush gets steadily and decidedly less so. And so what if you've maybe been giving him more.

 

Somewhere along the way, you suggest going back to yours. Somewhere along the way, he's sitting on your couch as you open a bottle of tequila. Somewhere along the way, he fails to notice you haven't touched your shot.

 

You wonder briefly what happened to your pride, hell, at this point you'd settle for even the slightest gleam of morals. This could be classed as taking advantage of your best friend. It could be, but you're damned if you try to class it. So you leave that though hanging as you slide next to him, closer and closer, as you suggest he stay at yours tonight, as you point out the stupidity of him sleeping on the couch.

 

And only you can be at blame, you know how he is when he's drunk, though he'll probably say it's shared blame, you are after all also supposed to be drunk.

 

It starts, as all love songs do, with a kiss. Except this isn't a love story, it can't be. Love stories don't have one drunk and the other sober and planning it all. The kiss is messy and wet yet sublime and hot. Very hot. It sends you spiralling. Morals be damned.

 

He mumbles that clothes are bad and kindly removes them for you.

 

There is nothing chaste or inhibited about his actions, about the way he ravages you and you don't stop him. You've wanted this, wanted him, for so long you thought that the ethics of it all wouldn't bother you. Your orgasm is coloured bittersweet.

 

You wake up alone, what else should be expected? You don't bother wrapping a sheet around your waist as you step out into the living room. You stop when you see him fully dressed staring at your shot glass. Your full shot glass. His expression, normally so open, is unreadable even as he turns to you and point at it accusingly.

 

You give a small, sad smile before walking back into your room and praying it was a nightmare.

 

The shadow that shades your eyes from the glare of the sun through the window whispers "You could've just asked" before leaving.

 

But don't worry, ignore the fact your relationship is now in tatters, because, it was all worth right?


	2. Chapter 2

You run your hand through your hair. You straighten your shirt. You check your appearance just once more in the mirror.

 

All the time you're telling yourself that it's because your vain. Truth is, you're doing it for him.

 

But you don't allow yourself to think that, you can't. 

 

He betrayed you. You know you have to focus on that. It's just hard to stay angry at him when he's all you've ever wanted. 

 

Your phone beeps and it's her. 

 

You ignore it.

 

Picking up your jacket you go outside where the car that picks you up is waiting.

 

He's already inside. Looking fucking perfect as ever.

 

But he's not perfect, not anymore. It wasn't until he fell from the pedestal you so conveniently put him on, that you realised how high up he was.

 

Perfect.

 

He doesn't look at you when you get in. He doesn't look at you at all anymore. He only ever looks at the character. 

 

You know people have talked about you, about him, about the layer of ice coating your relationship. 

 

As you wander onto set you can feel their collective gaze, the whisper that follows you as though attached to your shadow.

 

You don't pretend not to notice it because you've grown so used to it you just don't anymore.

 

He slips away at the first chance and for a second you mourn the loss of him at your side and curse the childishness that makes him duck away. Though you know that if he didn't, it would be you that did.

 

The director today hasn't worked with you since before the nameless incident. He knows straight off something's up.

 

Which is why at the first break, you're not surprised to be pulled aside. 

 

He stalks off too quickly to be caught.

 

"What's up? Is there something going on at home, or is it something else?" The director asks. 

 

There is probably concern somewhere, concern for you, but all you see is concern for his schedule.

 

You're not in the mood to be polite, you haven't been for weeks. "Fine." That's why he gets monosyllabic responses. 

 

"You sure? Because it feels like something is off, you two have a fight or something?"

 

"No." And it's the truth, you haven't spoken to one another for long enough to have a fight. 

 

"Still, it feels like something is broken," what an understatement, "I can give you an hour, maybe two, then I'm going to need you to have you back on set, so could you just try and fix whatever it is that's wrong?" 

 

The director walks away before you can comment. Before you can mention that you don't know how to fix something that is so deeply broken.


	3. Chapter 3

You know that saying about 'being the better person'. 

 

You hear it repeated in your head every time you see him, and your mind flashes back to what you did.

 

You know that you're off your game. 

 

You can hear the steadily increasing levels of exasperation in the director's voice.

 

Break comes early and you make it a priority to leave quickly. You know otherwise you'll be encouraged to go stand with your costar and have to endure a pep talk from the director. But you can't do that to the man who was once your best friend. You can't force your presence on him. It's not fair.

 

Not fair on either of you.

 

So instead you quickly make your exit. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

You know He sees. You know he understands why. And by the fact He doesn’t stop you, you know you are doing the right thing.

 

Your trailer is the same as it’s always been, as He made it. 

 

At the time you pretended not to notice that he was effectively putting his stamp on the place, and now, you use it as a way to hold onto him.

 

The only thing that has changed since the Incident is that one by one the frames that held pictures of the two of you have been covered, turned over or smashed.

 

Falling heavily onto your couch you remind yourself of that night. It had been... nothing like you had expected, nothing like you had wanted, but you had needed it and for now, hell, forever, that was the choice you made and will have to live with.


	4. Chapter 4

You can feel the director’s eyes on you the whole way, which is hwy you know there’s no chance of escaping this meeting.

 

So dutifully you knock on the door. You wait, checking subtly over your shoulder to see if the director is still watching.

 

He isn’t. You consider running. Your back is turned when you hear the whisper that’s barely there, that sudden reminder of everything the two of you shared.

 

You wonder briefly if it’s wrong how your heart beats faster, how you become quickly and inexplicably nervous when you see him leaning against the doorframe.

 

To everyone else, he looks chilled and relaxed, but you see through it. You see how rigid his beautiful frame is. 

 

No, it can’t be beautiful, not anymore.

 

He betrayed you.

 

That annoying side of your brain points out that something isn’t right if you have to remind yourself to be angry.

 

That same part reminds you of all the times you had to stop yourself from leaning into his touch and holding a hug for just a little longer.

 

“Back on set in an hour.”

 

Your voice is flat and that of a stranger. You meant to repress your desire but ended up repressing everything.


	5. Chapter 5

You silently curse your friends for bringing you out.

 

You curse them colourfully and fluently. He shouldn’t have to be subjected to your presence.

 

Nor you to his.

 

You feel guilty enough as it is.

 

'Forget God's own personal joke, I'm his whole freaking comedy routine.' Who said that? Because it's pretty damn accurate at the moment.

 

He smiles at a joke. Your traitorous heart skips at the show of happiness.

 

You miss the smile. You miss the laugh. You miss the way he looks when he's concentrating. You miss him.

 

It's a while before you notice the table is empty except for you and Him.

 

You take a swig of beer and signal a waitress for another.

 

She gives you a flirty grin that you all but miss, your gaze is on Him again. 

 

With a start, you realise he's looking back.

 

You wonder when they turned the heat up or when everyone else disappeared or when it was that he had ever looked back at you like that.

 

"Hey." You whisper. This is the first time you've dared let yourself look at Him, and not the character he portrays and all you can say is 'Hey". Great start.

 

"Hey." His voice is strangely soft.

 

For the longest time your world consist only of the two of you, even though it's only for a moment. 

 

But nothing is so perfect that it lasts a lifetime right? 

 

Your friends return and everything shatters.

 

But for a moment, you had his forgiveness, his friendship, and maybe, for an instant, his love?


	6. Chapter 6

You fall into your bed in the early hours of the morning but you don't sleep.

 

You can't.

 

His eyes are still imprinted on your mind.

 

The way he looked back at you.

 

You shudder, palm going to the crotch of your jeans and pressing down hard.

 

It's a familiar motion that your body recognises from years working with those eyes.

 

Your mind already has it's fantasy prepared.

 

But tonight, tonight you don't need it.

 

Tonight you have something real.

 

And what you saw in his eyes was real. You know that.

 

You gasp his name as you have done a thousand times although only once has he heard.

 

And you only have a dim recollection of that night.

 

You have never been angry. You all too clearly knew the length you would've gone to get what you pined for. Wanted. Needed. 

 

The gap between you was borne out of fear that that was all he wanted.

 

You had dreamt of more and tonight, that was what you got.

 

For the first time, you saw love in his eyes.

 

The first time, although, maybe it had always been there and you just hadn't looked hard enough.


	7. Chapter 7

You wake up the next morning and it's like the first rays of sun after months of drizzle.

 

The ugly weight in your stomach had been there so long you'd forgotten it was there until it was gone.

 

Because of different call times, you don't see him that morning in the car but you sense him as soon as he walks onto set.

 

The director is talking to you when you start beaming like an idiot because you just know that He's standing behind you with exactly what you need to kick start the morning. 

 

You excuse yourself then go to relieve him of your morning pick-me-up.

 

You walk with him to costume, to make-up, to the set for the next scene.

 

It's like picking up an old book and realising the bookmark's still there, marking the page, marking exactly where you stopped so that you can pick the story right back up from where you left off.

 

You know as soon as the cameras are back rolling that everything is going to be fine because your chemistry is back.

 

Everything that was there before, is once more.

 

The director is so happy that he wraps everything up early.

 

You don't suggest that you go home to yours. He doesn't offer his place.

 

You do, however, go to the nearest bar.

 

You laugh, you joke, you make prats of yourselves. 

 

You don't mention the incident, you don't flirt with the waitresses and you don't offer to continue the party at home.

 

You leave before you're both too slaughtered to drive.

 

You fall asleep with a sense of dizzy optimism.

 

Things are not fully tuned yet, but at least they're no longer broken.

 

Your guilt isn't gone, but it's shadowed by a new emotion; hope.


	8. Chapter 8

You quickly fall into the new routine and the rules that follow.

 

You don't talk about sex, having it, wanting it or insinuating it.

 

You don't hold hugs for too long. You don't lean into touches. You don't go out of your way to sustain physical content.

 

You don't sleep over. You don't offer to drive the other home. You don't buy the other a drink.

 

But most importantly, you don't mention what happened a month ago.

 

You know that the rules mean you're only really living a half life, but you've tried the whole 'without him' thing and it sucked.

 

So, you keep to the rules and everything is fine.

 

You had missed his way of softly encouragine you without being overbearing. 

 

You missed the way he deflected anything a stressed director said, diverted it off you and onto himself.

 

You missed the way he was always there, exactly how you needed him.

 

But you still miss the wrestling for the remote. 

 

You still miss the hugs that always left you breathless even if you had initiated them.

 

You still miss you friend even though he's standing right next to you.

 

You lay awake at night and remember that he took advantage of you, that he purposefully got you drunk to seduce you.

 

It could be counted as rape.

 

You wish that he would do it again.

 

Just so you could get to feel something.


	9. Chapter 9

You look at him so quickly that you forget to school your expression.

 

You forget to hide the blend of shock, hurt and betrayal in your eyes.

 

He just broke one of your unspoken rules.

 

Three actually.

 

He commented about how attractive a passing girl was and flirted with her a bit.

 

He mentioned his desperate need for sex.

 

He insinuated that maybe you might be able to help him out.

 

Your eyes are still wide as you look at the floor and try to process all the possible meanings his words may have.

 

The call for the next scene comes before you can even comprehend the first.

 

After the day's filming ends, he invites you out for a drink. You agree and as you go to your car, he calls over and points out the stupidity of taking two cars.

 

He'll drive and you can pick up your car later.

 

Curious, though unsure, you agree.

 

At the bar, he sends you to get a table. He finds you a little time after.

 

He's holding two beers, one is for you.

 

Another two rules vanish.

 

You drink and joke and he suggests you go back to his as he's got a film he's been dying to see and he knows you'll love it. 

 

Another rule bites the dust as, at some god forsaken hour, you agree to sleep at his.

 

He starts to make up a bed on the couch before shaking his head and moving it all into his bedroom.

 

You follow, all intentions on arguing when you see that he's putting the bedding on the other side of his bed.

 

He looks at you pointedly and says something he hasn't said in a long time; "Couch; too small, giant bed alone; too big, giant bed..."

 

"with both of us, just right." You finish his sentence.

 

His bed is just as it always was.

 

It's like coming home.

 

The down duvet fits him and you are immediately comforted by it's weight.

 

Between the lands of dreams and waking, you feel his arm slip around your waist.

 

You feel his lips brush your neck.

 

You feel his body warming yours.

 

Sleep follows, and you slip into it, his name on your lips.


	10. Chapter 10

You wake up and find him gone the next morning. It is like a nightmare that you are sure you've lived before.

 

Your pulse quickens and dread clouds your vision.

 

You can't breathe.

 

Regret replaces fear.

 

And somewhere amongst your silent panic attack, you hear the door slam. 

 

You hear your kitchen cupboards open and plates placed down.

 

You frown and patter carefully into the living room. You can see him in your kitchen.

 

"What are you doing?" Your morning voice is quiet and crackly and loaded with Texan.

 

But he hears and understands. "You're supposed to be in bed. Otherwise breakfast in bed doesn't work."

 

You sit on a bar stool and look him over.

 

He's wearing your t-shirt.

 

He looks better in it than you ever did.

 

Your heart skips.

 

"That shirt doesn't go with the jeans." You remark mischievously.

 

"Your so gay." He replies, the words slipping out before he has the chance to look embarrassed or guilty. He flips an egg onto a plate, his head bowed, face red.

 

"Only for you, baby."

 

He nearly drops the plate, he spins round so fast.

 

Maybe he expects to see humour in your eyes, a joke.

 

He'll not find it.

 

He hisses your name, a warning.

 

"No, I'm fed up of dancing."

 

You get up and walk around the breakfast bar.

 

You slide your arms around his waist.

 

You tug at his chin so he can look you in the eye.

 

The first kiss is chaste, but gets your point across.

 

The second is more forceful with tongue. It's to reiterate your point.

 

The third, that's the one that defines your relationship.

 

Tongue, teeth, messy, wet, passionate and perfect.


	11. Chapter 11

They still have rules.

 

Don't mention that all Jensen's things seem to be at Jared's, all over Jared's actually.

 

Don't mention that Jared can't cook.

 

Don't mention that Jensen hates corny alien movies.

 

Don't mention that Jared's taste in shirts is horrible.

 

Don't mention that they are crazy about each other.

 

They don't mention them because they don't need to be.

 

Don't hold hugs for too long, though to each other, too long never comes.

 

Don't lean into touches, melt in them.

 

Don't go out of your way to sustain contact, at least not in public.

 

They still have rules.


End file.
